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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245620">Watch Out, You Might Just Go Under</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessrivers/pseuds/countessrivers'>countessrivers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Previously, On The Gotham Diaries [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:35:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessrivers/pseuds/countessrivers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim really is a terrible hunter. Never mind that he’s technically retired, and never mind that a month ago he took out a vampire that was at least a few hundred years old. A good hunter wouldn’t be letting any vampires roam free, much less run the city’s underworld, and they certainly wouldn’t be helping them be better vampires. </p>
<p>But here he is, trying to do just that. Trying to protect the people of Gotham by helping Oswald master his new abilities, helping him gain, and maintain, control of himself. </p>
<p>And honestly, if it saves people, if it means Jim doesn’t have to kill him, he’s willing to throw himself on that sword. </p>
<p>Or fangs, as it were.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Previously, On The Gotham Diaries [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gobblepot Halloween 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Watch Out, You Might Just Go Under</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the Gobblepot Halloween 2020 event on tumblr.</p>
<p>Chapter 2 to come soon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jim stares at the blood dripping from his wrist half dazed. He hasn’t lost nearly enough to be more than a little light-headed, but the weight of compulsion always makes him feel like that. Like he’s drifting, like he’s not in control. </p>
<p>Because he isn’t. </p>
<p>Upon being ushered into Oswald’s office, Jim had taken his customary seat, and spotting the crystal wine glass on the desk in front of him, had reached into his jacket for his knife. It was standard, normal, payment up front for the favour he was about to ask for. Oswald had stopped him though, had caught his arm and pulled it straight, turning it so that his palm, his wrist, were facing up.  </p>
<p>Jim had tried to pull his hand back, but Oswald’s fingers had been like steel, and before he could even open his mouth to demand to know what he thought he was playing at, Oswald had caught his eye and told him to sit still. </p>
<p>And Jim had done exactly that, the compulsion falling on him fast and heavy and unexpected. He’d been able to do little more than glare as Oswald had pushed the sleeve of his jacket up, movements unhurried as he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up his arm too. Oswald had pulled out a knife of his own, and there had been nothing Jim could do to stop him dragging the blade across his bared wrist. </p>
<p>He’d guided Jim’s arm closer to the desk so that the first drops landed in the glass, and held him there as the blood started to run proper. His fingers had been cold, and Jim would have flinched if he could. The thumb Oswald had rubbed back and forth over the top of his hand hadn’t helped. </p>
<p>“Fill the glass for me,” he’d said, and then he’d left, with a promise to be back shortly and the quick brush of his fingers down Jim’s neck as he passed. </p>
<p>And Jim was stuck there. Stuck in that chair with his arm up and his blood dripping into the glass.  </p>
<p>The cut stings, and his arm aches, and even if he’s not in danger of passing out, there’s something disconcerting about watching your blood fill up a glass that you know someone is later going to drink out of, especially when there’s nothing you can do to stop it </p>
<p>When Jim does it, when he’s in control, he cuts himself on the forearm. It hurts less than the wrist or the inner arm that way, for one, but it also reduces the risk of him accidentally cutting too deep. It’s less hampering there too, easier to explain away if need be, and quicker to heal. </p>
<p>Oswald hadn’t cut deep enough for him to be in any danger, but Jim resents the fact that he did it at all. Jim would have done it, was planning on doing it himself, because that’s their deal, but Oswald had taken it out of his hands, and Jim’s not entirely sure why. </p>
<p>Well, actually, he knows exactly why. </p>
<p>Because Oswald enjoys using his power. Because he enjoys using it on him. </p>
<p>He enjoys watching Jim trying to fight the compulsion just as much as he enjoys the times he doesn’t, when he admits he can’t. He likes the control, likes being able to make him do whatever he wants.  </p>
<p>Which he has, and though he’s done nothing yet that Jim might have to kill him for, the threat is ever there. Oswald <em>could</em>, and they both know it, though for whatever reason, that doesn’t scare Jim as much as it should. Or at least, it doesn’t scare him in a way that makes him want to put a stop to their arrangement, or to Oswald himself. </p>
<p>Jim really is a terrible hunter. Never mind that he’s technically retired, and never mind that a month ago he took out a vampire that was at least a few hundred years old. A good hunter wouldn’t be letting <em>any</em> vampires roam free, much less run the city’s underworld, and they certainly wouldn’t be helping them be <em>better</em> vampires. </p>
<p>But here he is, trying to do just that. Trying to protect the people of Gotham by helping Oswald master his new abilities, helping him gain, and maintain, control of himself. </p>
<p>And honestly, if it saves people, if it means Jim doesn’t have to kill him, he’s willing to throw himself on that sword. </p>
<p>Or fangs, as it were. </p>
<p>Not that Oswald has needed much in the guidance or advice department. He’s a fast learner, and almost frighteningly good at being a vampire. Jim feels like he’s really there more for practice. And food. </p>
<p>Oswald re-enters the room just as the glass beneath Jim’s arm reaches close to full. As good as his instincts and senses are, it still throws him a little that he can no longer hear Oswald’s distinctive gait coming. The injured leg had healed when Oswald had turned, and though he’s seen him continue to play it up in public, presumably as not to arouse suspicion around a seemingly miraculous recovery, Oswald never bothers when it’s just the two of them. In fact, he generally only allows Jim to hear his footsteps when it serves a purpose. </p>
<p>“I think that will do,” he says, smoothly swiping the glass from the desk and dropping a roll of bandages in Jim’s lap as he passes.  </p>
<p>The second the glass is removed, Jim jerks his arm back to himself, relieved that he can lower it, but also that it’s back under his own control. He watches Oswald take his seat across from him, but looks away when he raises the blood-filled glass to his nose and inhales deeply, focusing instead on unwrapping the bandages. Looking down he sees that he’s already gotten blood on his clothes, and quickly starts wrapping his wrist to prevent further stains. </p>
<p>Jim hears Oswald make a frankly filthy noise of appreciation as he takes a sip, but he keeps his eyes resolutely on bandaging his wrist, ignoring both the sight and the sound. </p>
<p>“That was unnecessary,” he says as he ties off the end of the bandage. He can feel the weight of Oswald’s stare, and he doesn’t have to see to be able to picture clearly the satisfied smirk sure to be gracing his features. </p>
<p>“If you say so, Jim.” </p>
<p>When he looks up, there is indeed a smirk, and Jim’s eyes can’t help but flick to the glass is Oswald’s hand, the way his thumb is idly sliding up and down the stem as he watches him back. </p>
<p>Jim can never decide whether he prefers it when Oswald takes his blood like this, or when he does it directly, right from the source. On the one hand, he’s more likely to keep his clothes on like this, but on the other, there’s something about having to give it up, offer it himself, even if he’s not entirely in control, watching from the outside, seeing it all. </p>
<p>Regardless, he’s not going to bother trying to untangle the ‘why’ behind when Oswald decides on either. It’s been a month, and one way or another, it’s been happening regularly. Sometimes it’s payment, and sometimes it’s arguably not, and on top of the myriad of cuts and bites and bruises - for secrecy’s sake he’s managed to keep Oswald away from his neck, but his wrists, his chest, and even his inner thighs are a different matter entirely - Jim’s seriously worried that he’s becoming anemic. </p>
<p>Because only very occasionally does Oswald give him his blood in return. It’s only ever when he’s pushes it too far, when he’s done something Jim won’t be able to hide, or maybe even survive.  </p>
<p>And part of it is Jim’s own paranoia, given that he has absolutely zero interest in being a vampire himself, and given his job, and, in Oswald’s words, his propensity for getting into trouble, the risk is far too great for him to be walking around with vampire blood in his system. But also, like his use of compulsion, the simplest explanation is that Oswald just likes marking him. He enjoys leaving the marks, and he enjoys seeing them after, meaning that, where possible, he leaves them to heal on their own, and will often replace them with brand news ones the moment they do. </p>
<p>And Jim lets him. </p>
<p>For the good of Gotham is how he usually justifies it to himself. </p>
<p>“The Valeskas appear to be behaving.” Oswald takes another sip from his glass, maintaining eye contact with Jim as he does. Jim lets him see his annoyance at the blatant taunt, but nevertheless takes the change in topic. </p>
<p>On to business then. </p>
<p>“Your definition of behaving likely differs from mine,” he says, straightening in his chair. “Not to mention theirs. Exactly what are they doing?” </p>
<p>“Still lying low. Entertaining themselves with...whatever it is Mr. Wayne is to them.” </p>
<p>Jim grits his teeth at the mention of Bruce’s name, along with the knowing gleam in Oswald’s eye. </p>
<p>Bruce can, for the most part, take care of himself, more so now that Jim’s started to give him a bit of training of his own. And Jim trusts him when he says he can handle the Valeskas. He believes him when he says he’s not going to allow them to hurt anyone. But that doesn’t mean he likes it - something he’s commiserated about with Alfred over more than a few drinks - and it doesn’t mean that he’s not ready and waiting to deal with them, should the need arise. He hasn’t forgotten who and what they are. </p>
<p>And he’s already had a recent run-in with Jerome, the first since he’d left him with the others at Theo Galavan’s penthouse. He’d been loitering in the alley outside the station, waiting for him. He’d gotten too close, smiled with too sharp teeth, and had responded to the gun Jim had pulled on him with a laugh, a brush of his hand that was in no way accidental, and a request to send “Pengy” his regards. </p>
<p>(Oswald had rolled his eyes when Jim had done just that, but Jim hadn’t missed the way his grip had cracked the wooden handle of his umbrella as Jim described exactly where Jerome’s hand had brushed.) </p>
<p>“I’d tell you, Jim, if there was anything suspicious going on.” </p>
<p>And the funny thing was, Jim believed him. For all that Jerome had been the one to turn him, Oswald didn’t like the twins any more than Jim did, and he’d barely had to bargain to extract a promise to keep an eye on them. </p>
<p>“I know,” he concedes, and the genuinely pleased smile Oswald flashes unnerves him the same way it always has, the same way his open admiration, what Jim hesitates to name as affection, has always made him feel just that little bit awkward. </p>
<p>He doesn’t know what to do with it, is the truth, and instead of improving things, the fact that he and Oswald have come to form an ongoing arrangement of traded intel, favours, training, and blood, the fact that Oswald is now a vampire whom Jim is, for all intents and purposes, selling himself to, the fact that he has, more than once, allowed Oswald to fuck him – and if he’s being honest, far more than allowed – has just made things worse. </p>
<p>And it doesn’t help that Oswald also does things like sip from crystal glasses filled with his blood while letting his eyes flutter shut, making sounds like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, only to then turn back to Jim with a look that says he knows exactly what it’s doing to him. </p>
<p>Which, given his heightened senses, he essentially can. </p>
<p>Or maybe the blame lies squarely with Jim, and his inappropriate, insane, and frankly suicidal reaction to such things. Watching Oswald drink his blood, blood that he took by force, shouldn’t make his pulse kick up a notch in anything but fear. </p>
<p>Oswald licks his lips, tongue chasing a stray drop of blood, and Jim finds himself unconsciously doing the same. He takes some small sliver of comfort from the fact that Oswald follows the movement, eyes dark, but that in turn just sends a shiver down his spine.  </p>
<p>Jim has come to accept that there was something very wrong with him. </p>
<p>A terrible, terrible hunter. </p>
<p>“Barbara’s back in town.” He keeps his voice as steady as he can, telling himself that he’s not changing the subject, but rather, ensuring they actually get to the reason he came. </p>
<p>“Is she?”  </p>
<p>Jim takes genuine pleasure in the surprise he can hear in Oswald’s voice, and the shake of the glass as he places it back on the desk. It’s well hidden, but Jim can tell that he’d had no idea that Barbara had resurfaced. To be fair, Jim hadn’t either, right up until he’d found her waiting outside his apartment, but he wasn’t the one who based himself on knowing where his enemies were and what they were doing at all times.  </p>
<p>Although maybe he should start. </p>
<p><em>“Hi, Jim.”</em> </p>
<p><em>For a moment Jim just stands in the hallway with his eyes closed. His morning had consisted of arguing with the Commissioner, while his afternoon had involved him being shot at and thrown into three separate walls, so finding Barbara, who no one had heard from in months following her latest attempt at dethroning Oswald, standing outside his apartment was the topper on an already crappy day.</em> </p>
<p><em>Unfortunately, she’s still there when he opens his eyes, dashing his hopes that she might have been a figment conjured by stress and a lack of sleep, who would disappear if only he willed it hard enough.</em> </p>
<p>He hadn’t invited her in. He’d learned his lesson on that. </p>
<p>“And she came to see you?” </p>
<p>“She did.” </p>
<p><em>“You’re looking well. A little peaky, but-”</em> </p>
<p><em>“What do you want, Barbara?”</em> </p>
<p><em>Barbara pouts at him, reaching out to brush what could be concrete dust, or else an imaginary excuse to touch him, off his sleeve.</em> </p>
<p><em>“To let you know I was back, check in, see how you were.” She strokes her hand down his arm and smiles when he shifts away. The door to his apartment is at his back, but Jim refuses to consider himself trapped. “I heard about that mess with what’s his name? Galavan? I mean, not the shortest-lived mayor Gotham’s ever had, but he’d have to be up there. And poor Bruce. He’s okay, isn’t he?”</em> </p>
<p><em>“He’s fine.”</em> </p>
<p><em>“Good. And I know you must be busy. Corrupt, criminal mayor kidnaps and tries to kill Gotham’s favourite son, then goes missing? They must be working you to the bone.”</em> </p>
<p><em>“Uh huh.” Barbara seems rather well informed for someone who had fled the city months previous, but Jim can't quite tell exactly how pointed her questions are, and what exactly she might know about how things really went down. “And you thought you’d come back and take advantage?”</em> </p>
<p><em>“Gotham’s my home, I wasn’t going to stay away forever.”</em> </p>
<p><em>“I would have thought after Penguin’s threats you’d have found another one.”</em> </p>
<p><em>Barbara shrugs. “Ozzy just needed to calm down. I’m sure I’ll be able to smooth things over. He knows how these things go. It’s not like he’s never launched a coup before.”</em> </p>
<p><em>“He also holds a grudge, and you fucked him over majorly. He’s not going to forget that. You were better off in hiding, Barbara, trust me.”</em> </p>
<p><em>“If he’s buddies with Ed again, he can get over it. He’s practical, if nothing else,” </em> </p>
<p><em>“So, this little visit is what? You looking for protection until you can convince Penguin not to kill you on sight?”</em> </p>
<p><em>“Surely you wouldn’t let him do that?”</em> </p>
<p><em>“No, I wouldn’t, but I’m also not going to let you start another gang war, or concoct other scheme, with Penguin or Nygma or anyone, that will get people hurt. So, whatever it is you’re planning, don’t.”</em> </p>
<p><em>Barbara cocks her head to the side, and sidles in closer. “You know, a part of me really missed those gruff, Gordon-patented demands.” She drags a nail down the front of his suit. “And who says I’m planning anything?”</em> </p>
<p><em>Jim catches her hand. “I know you. You wouldn’t have come back if you weren’t, </em> </p>
<p><em>“Hmm, I guess you do know me.”</em> </p>
<p><em>Jim sighs, dropping her hand and sidestepping so that he’s out from between her and the door.“ It’s good to see you, Barbara.”</em> </p>
<p><em>She flashes him another smile, taking the tired dismissal for what it is. “Always nice to see you too, baby.” She turns to leave, but pauses at the end of the hallway. “But if you do happen to run into Penguin before I do, could you give him my love?”</em> </p>
<p><em>She blows him a kiss over her shoulder, and Jim waits until she’s disappeared down the stairs to unlock his door.</em> </p>
<p>“And what did you say to her?” </p>
<p>“I told her it was good to see her and that she should try and stay out of trouble.” </p>
<p>“And do you think she will?” </p>
<p>“No, I don’t. Which is why I’m here. She all but told me outright that her and Ed were working together, and she seemed particularly keen on patching things up with you.” </p>
<p>Oswald scoffs, which Jim takes as a promising sign. He hadn’t been lying to Barbara when he warned her of Oswald’s anger, but he’d seen bigger grudges put aside before, at least temporarily.  </p>
<p>“So, she hasn’t contacted you at all?” </p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>“And you and Ed haven’t been planning anything?” </p>
<p>Oswald looks consideringly at him, drumming his fingers on the desk. “I’m hardly going to incriminate myself, Captain.” </p>
<p>“I know far worse things about you.” </p>
<p>“That you do. But no,” he says to Jim’s annoyed look. “Ed hasn’t come to me with anything, and he certainly hasn’t mentioned Ms. Kean.” </p>
<p>“And if he does?” </p>
<p>“Then I will come straight to you.” </p>
<p>Jim lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He hadn’t been sure Oswald would side with him on this. He never can tell how he and Ed are going to behave in regards to each other on any given day. There are years of history, not to mention bad blood, between them at this point, only about half of which Jim is abreast of, and he’s been caught out and caught between them more than once. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” </p>
<p>“Of course. The last thing either of us wants is unnecessary bloodshed.” He glances at the still unfinished glass to his right. “In a manner of speaking.” </p>
<p>Jim moves to stand, but stops when Oswald leans forward over the desk. </p>
<p>“And in exchange for my assistance-” </p>
<p>“What? No. I already...” Jim waves his bandaged wrist in the air. </p>
<p>Oswald shakes his head. “Ed’s a friend. He trusts me.” </p>
<p>“More fool him.” </p>
<p>“True. But if I am to betray said trust, and if you are also asking me to spare Barbara Kean’s life, which I assume you are, then I’m going to need something more from you.” </p>
<p>Jim grits his teeth and admonishes himself for not at least considering that Oswald would try something like this. </p>
<p>“What do you want?” </p>
<p>“A week.” He answers immediately, which tells Jim that he’s been waiting a while for opportunity to demand it. “A week where you’re here, or at the mansion, and your mine to do whatever I want with.” </p>
<p>Jim’s breath catches, and he has to concentrate on not flinching. </p>
<p>“Three days, like last time,” he shoots back. </p>
<p>‘Last time’ had involved, among other things, what Oswald had described as a test of his self-control, but what had really been Jim tied down while Oswald bled him from over two dozen cuts. He’d been locked in place with his own handcuffs, Oswald circling and cutting into him seemingly at random. The smell of blood had been strong enough for Jim, so he can only imagine how overwhelming it must have been for Oswald. </p>
<p>He hadn’t tried to rip his throat out though, which had admittedly been progress. </p>
<p>And that had been day one. </p>
<p>Oswald smiles at the fact Jim is haggling, but it’s a pleased smile, and he appears willing to play along. </p>
<p>“You’re asking for a lot more this time. I’m afraid the price has gone up. Five days.” </p>
<p>“I have work.” </p>
<p>“I’m sure you have leave available. Or you could call in sick, claim the flu.” </p>
<p>Jim’s mind is already running away from him, imagining all the things Oswald could do to him in those five days. Some of it’s based on things he’s already mentioned or hinted at or threatened, but the rest are just things pulled from Jim’s own head, things he would never admit out loud to enjoying. To wanting. </p>
<p>“Fine,” he relents, like they both knew he would. “Five days.” </p>
<p>“Excellent. Let me know when you’ve organised the time off. The sooner the better though.” </p>
<p>Jim drops his head back and lets himself breath for a moment. He tells himself that he should get up and walk out. That he should get up and walk out and not come back. That he should get up and walk out and come back with a stake because he shouldn’t be letting a vampire who was a murderer long before he turned live. He shouldn’t be letting him run the city’ criminal element, and he certainly shouldn’t be letting him tie him down and compel him and feed from him and fuck him. He really, really shouldn’t. </p>
<p>“Or...” Jim looks up to see Oswald swirling what’s left of the blood in the glass, staring at him. “We can start right now.” </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>Oswald stands and walks around the desk, drink still in hand. “I know for a fact that tomorrow’s the weekend for you.”  </p>
<p>He steps in-between Jim’s legs, leaning down over him as he brings the glass up to his lips. His other hand slides behind his head, fingers curling in his hair. He pulls Jim’s head back, gently for now, the glass following. </p>
<p>Jim’s no stranger to the taste of his own blood in his mouth. A hazard of the job, unfortunately. Every job he’s ever had, now that he thinks about it. But it’s entirely different like this. He still shuts his eyes, though, opens his mouth and lets Oswald empty what’s left of the glass. The blood is thick, its iron tang heavy on his tongue, and Jim swallows it. </p>
<p>He keeps his eyes closed when Oswald pulls the glass away, when a blood-coated finger swipes across his lips before pressing between them. Jim licks it, wraps his tongue around it, sucking it clean as Oswald fucks it in and out of his mouth. </p>
<p>The finger retreats, but it’s quickly replaced by Oswald’s tongue, which licks at his blood-stained mouth. </p>
<p>“Keep your hands down.” </p>
<p>Jim has his eyes closed, so he doesn’t think Oswald is trying to compel him, but he obeys anyway, clutches at the armrests of his chair while Oswald clutches at his face. He chases the taste of blood in Jim’s mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks, his jaw. </p>
<p>He keeps kissing him, pulls at his tongue, worries at his bottom lip, traces over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Jim begins to feel dizzy, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, Oswald’s fingers still holding him in place, his own scratching fruitlessly at the armrests. </p>
<p>Oswald eventually pulls away, before Jim can test whether he can, or even would, push him away. His lips feel puffy, swollen, he’s having trouble catching his breath, and though Oswald had been more than thorough, Jim could swear he still tastes blood when he licks at the corner of his mouth. </p>
<p>He opens his eyes to see Oswald staring down at him, still so close. His eyes are dark, and Jim can feel the steady puff of the breath that he doesn’t really need on his face. </p>
<p>A hand comes up to cup his cheek, a thumb brushing across his cheekbone, down along his jaw, and up to press against his mouth. </p>
<p>“You’re going to stay, aren’t you, Jim?” </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this fic started out as part of my vampire AU, which began with a Jerome/Bruce/Jeremiah piece, and for which there are other parts in various stages of completion. I've kind of stalled motivation-wise with the longer plot-based parts of the series, but I was compelled to write this fic, partly for the tumblr Gobblepot Halloween event, and partly because I just wanted to write some Gobblepot vamp AU, and figured I might as well get this done and published, so at least it's out there. It can stand on its own, and you don't need to read the first part, buuuuuut if you're interested in the wider plot of this AU...</p>
<p>Essentially, a big part of this series was going to involve an adaptation of parts of the Galavan-arc in season 2, and this is mentioned throughout the fic here. Nothing I think that wouldn't make sense if you'd seen the show, but to summarise, in this AU Bruce has just started out as Batman and he gets caught up with the Valeskas, who are both vampires. Jim is a Captain at this point, but used to be, prior to his return to Gotham, and kind of still is, a hunter. Theo Galavan (and his sister), a vampire who a century earlier turned Jerome (who then tracked down and turned his brother), returns to Gotham to enact vengeance on the Waynes - ie Bruce. From there it plays out roughly following the events of season 2, culminating in Bruce's kidnapping, his rescuing by The Team (which also includes the vampire twins), and Oswald and Jim killing Galavan. Afterwards, Oswald, having seen what vampires can do, goes to Jerome and asks to be turned, which Jerome agrees to, because he think it will be a laugh.</p>
<p>I feel like this fic works well enough on its own, but just in case you wanted a little more background. And while I do hope to get more of the series done, I hope this was enjoyable as is. One day I'll write a multi-part series in chronological order.</p>
<p>And as mentioned above, a second chapter *will* be coming.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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